


Battlefield

by Yoruhime



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 01:29:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8646421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoruhime/pseuds/Yoruhime
Summary: In the thick of the Alvarez war, a enemy spell reminds Laxus of a promise - and a reason to fight to the bitter end.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly AU from chapter 505/506 and onward. Which means... yes, possible SPOILERS !
> 
> I tried to put myself in Laxus' head as he witnesses Makarov's sacrifice, and keeps his side of the battle going anyway. Because he's an awsome character, and I was truly curious as to how he may have lived this war.

The sudden _hush_ of the battlefield is terrible in a way he never imagined before, all silence and cutting edges, realization sinking in around the denial. 

Shocking. Impossible, because for all he always scoffed at him, at his idealism, no matter how callous Laxus may have been when they faced off, Makarov is one of the greatest masters Fairy Tail ever had. Of this, he is certain, even if he didn't always had the strength to admit it. The words echo in his head, warm with the barest hint of steel underneath, declaration of love and an order to stand strong all in one. Something twists into his chest, painfully deep, and he has to take a trembling breath to keep calm.

_Don't break. Not now._

He sees the guild, shaking, crying silently. Bleeding in more ways than one, all of them. Erza's saber hits the ground, steel on dry, hard earth, and the sound seems impossibly _loud_ to Laxus' ears. The First flinches like she's been struck, sliding to her knees with grief, anguished sobs echoing into the stillness of the air. Enough to shake them all to their core, and Laxus knows he cannot let it happen. Cannot let them fall to horror and tears.

They have to fight. No matter what. Until this war is over, or until they're down, because Zeref won't stop for their pain, no matter how terrible. Not only his guild-mates, but Bix and Ever. Freed. They're out here as well, fighting on other fronts. He will not fall them again.

He forces himself to step forward, crouching at the old master's side. It is strange to put his hand on her shoulder – not quite life-warm, despite being in her own body again – but he squeezes as gently as he can.

“Stand up for us one more time, First... there are still enemies who require our attention, and we cannot win without your strategies.” It's almost a plea, would be if Laxus allowed himself to let his doubt and loss on the surface. Instead, he puts all the calm, gentle strength he can in his words, trying to infuse them with the same steel-filled caring that Makarov always showed. “Now... come on. Not just for us, but for the old geezer's sake, too.”

Erza's eyes met his, deep brown taking on bloody hues in the pale sun, and she squares her shoulders. He can see the agreement in her whole posture, the way she swallows her hurt as she folds on her knees, bowing to the ground a long second. When she rises, there's still tears on her face, but resolve, too, as bone-deep as Laxus' own.“Natsu and Grey...”

“Yeah. Dunno what the heck they're playing at, but...” He shakes his head. Too little time for words. “Do what you have to. I'll send us on different fronts with the help of the First.” Neither of them comment on the fact that the old master is still shaking silently under Laxus' hand, not with the way the guild has already started to regroup around her. Seeking comfort. Leadership. Still shaken, but not ready to accept defeat. 

Always standing no matter how dire the blow. They are Fairy Tail.

Erza nods, running past him without a word or encouragement, but the simple fact she leaves his statement enough. He rises to his full height, careful to stay at the First's side, even if she is still kneeling. She will recoup – she _doesn't_ have a choice, and he will shake or hit her if he has to – but until then, he has to stand in her place.

“Warren” he orders, sharp enough to force attention. “I need an update on Fairy Tail. Status of all fronts from the guild squad leaders. Classify them from urgent to critical, we'll disperse from here.” Fairy Law's magic tingles in his veins still, a slow, gentle trickle of warm that is balm over his sore muscles – and probably that of the others'. But despite it, he can see how close some of them are to collapse : they are a dozen, and half of them need a shoulder to stand. 

“If some of you cannot fight...” He sees the defiance dancing in their battered faces in answer, even amongst the most bloodied like Alzack or Macao, and doesn't bother ending his sentence. Instead he lets ozone fill the air around him like an incoming tempest, feral and poised to strike, merciless.“Well then... give them hell, will'ya ?”

“Yes. We will.” The voice is soft but rings clear at his right, and the First's expression is more savage than all of them reunited.

Laxus grins.

**

They're almost at the north line when it hits. 

A white-hot, delicious burn, pleasure pulsing like a living thing inside his veins, coursing his blood without warning. He falls on knees turned liquid with a helpless moan, only vaguely aware of his guild members suffering the same fate at his side. He cannot concentrate on anything, blinded by the feeling, and much more, the memory it draws to the surface.

_Freed's lips, dry and warm and **open** , seeking his just as desperately, fingers like iron brands where they dig into his back. The lithe, solid line of his body as hands sink in his hair, tugging until their eyes meet, golden against somber blue. _

_Freed's pupils have bleed dark under the lust, demon persona close to the surface, and Laxus brushes his thumb under a jet-black eye, illuminated only by the neon violet light of rune magic. Lightning dances at his fingertips in answer, not enough to hurt – never – and Freed turns his head into the touch, shivering as thunder grazes his skin._

_“I swear,” Laxus murmurs, voice low with something he doesn't dare to name – not with the battle against Alvarez looming so close. But Freed smiles like he knows anyway, hand sliding down a large shoulder to curl around the wrist. He strokes at the too-fast pulse here, unhurried, gentle, and Laxus feels the tension ease in his back._

_He loves these hands, deceptively slim – carefully manicured nails, and white, perfect skin – but with palms and fingers callused from hours upon hours of swordsmanship. It reminds him of how strong Freed is. Not a S-class, maybe, but largely on part with, and more powerful than, many in the guild. Clever and adaptable and utterly ruthless beyond his aristocratic airs and slender build._

_He steps back slowly, with a last caress over the beauty spot just under the left eye. Freed doesn't ask what he just swore to, only nods at him, eyes once again deep blue but brimming with a wordless determination._

_Laxus turns to Bix and Ever – who made themselves scarce in the corner of the room, but look utterly unsurprised, fleeting smiles dancing on their lips. They're strong, too, and knowing they'll guard Freed's back – and vice versa – reassure him beyond words. His family. His Tribe. He trusts them. With the battle, with victory and fights to the death alike. And most of all, he trust them enough to let them fend for themselves amongst a raging battlefield._

_“I'm counting on you”, he says, and it sounds like an order, like a fork of thunder crackling from the sky. The three of them smile, undaunted, sharp and assured, already falling in their preferred formation, Freed on the front, Bix and Ever on the flanks. He meets the rune mage's eyes one last time and turns heels, going back at Makarov's side._

_Freed will have all of their backs in the Kardia grand cathedral. The first wave is his to deal with, and Laxus doesn't doubt a second that he will._

_**I'll see you at the end of this war** , he thinks as the first ships appear on the map. **I swear it.**_

His mind falls back slowly on the battle, the smell of blood and wariness, the feel of the hard ground under his cheek becoming real again. Laxus realizes that the terrible pleasure has finally faded, leaving him shaking and covered in sweat on the dirty plains, aching all over from twisting on the rocky, unforgiving ground. 

He slowly gets to his feet, half-expecting the enemies to have fallen on their position, easy prey as they are, but no-one has surrounded them yet. With a furious growl, he turns to the north. There's a smell drifting on the wind from this direction, sharp and strange. Something he doesn't recognize, and yet...

“This is quite the enemy.” The First has slided up next to him. The ordeal left bruises and scrapes on her too, but she shrugs it off without a blink, all of her razor-sharp attention focused on the would-be responsible for their fall. The spell hit everyone in their small party, but Laxus doesn't have to turn back to know no-one stayed down.

“Yeah. So... we going full on into the thick of it, right ?” He's certain that's where Freed and the rest of the Tribe are headed, if only because they know Laxus too well : he'll never pass up a chance to take down one of the twelve – and considering the reach of the magic, making the air heavy even at such distance, it must be. Bring down the generals as fast and efficiently as possible : it's the unspoken rule of this battle, and Laxus certainly intends to respect it. 

_You wanted to make us weak, but you chose the wrong spell, bastard. You reminded me that I gave my word, and I ain't getting back on it. Not on my life._

Thunder rumbles overhead, lighting pulsing with each beat of his heart as the First nods in answer. Each step is taking him back to Freed, and in a fight for his life, there's no-one Laxus would rather have at his side through it all.


End file.
